


West of Somewhere

by oneifby (orphan_account)



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spy, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-16
Updated: 2013-03-22
Packaged: 2017-12-05 10:31:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/722053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/oneifby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kate's on a job. She doesn't have time for this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She's just a girl at a bar.
> 
> At least, that's what she wants people to think.

I.  
Kate sits down at a bar. It doesn't matter where, for the purposes of her narrative, just that she sits down.

Her name isn't Kate, but it's been Kate before. She likes it. Makes her feel like a girl with parents, a home. A Kate would have a dog. She's always liked labs.

Kate-not-Kate motions to the grizzled bartender and says "Quisiera una limonada". He doesn't move, just stares right past her until she adds "con vodka, por favor". He grunts then, and pulls a dirty glass out from under the bar.  
So you know she's in a Spanish-speaking country. That is definitely all that matters about where she is. For sure. 

And then Will sits down on the stool next to her.  
Will is there. Wherever there is, he's there.

That matters. It matters a lot.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kate recognizes Will.

II. 

She recognizes him instantly.

She knows that she knows him. It just takes her a second to place him, far less than it would for other people, whose job it isn’t to recognize people. He’s wearing a leather jacket and using contacts. They’re uncomfortable, she sees--he keeps rubbing his eyes like he’s about to cry and there aren’t enough natural allergens in the area for him to be having a reaction of that sort.

He shifts in his seat and asks the bartender for a glass of beer. Except that he pronounces it ‘sir-bay-suh’ and the bartner glares at him before shuffling off. “So that’s how you’re playing it,” she thinks. “The gringo angle.”

The last time she had seen him was in a hallway in Belgium, seven years ago.

The first was three years before that. She had passed him twice in one day. She was wearing her short red hair, which she thought made her look like Squeaky Fromme, and he was surrounded by a group of people (“ _Other nerds_ ,” she admits to herself), explaining something on a whiteboard he had dragged down from his office. It had circuit drawings and equations and what she thought were Greek letters. She’s rusty on her written Greek, but even she could tell it was high level stuff. She had walked past them coolly once, on her way to the room where the Parliamentary Assembly was held. He hadn’t looked up the first time, but she had read his name off the access pass dangling from his belt. Force of habit. _Will Bailey_.

After she had tagged the chair of the Qumari foreign Defense Minister with a contact poison, she had shed her blazer behind a nearby desk and strode out quickly. That time he had looked up, had caught her eyes.

She could feel his gaze on her after she had hurried by. It wasn’t until she was around the corner that she had allowed herself a sigh of relief. “He was just a kid,” Kate thinks. “But then weren’t we all.” She calls for a shot of tequila and pounds it. That gets his attention, finally.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tell's a tell, no matter who you are.

III.  


He turns to look at her, a rookie mistake.  


His peripheral vision must be impaired or he wouldn’t risk it. Even so. Will at least pretends to be staring behind her to the town square. She wouldn’t blame him if he was. The fairy lights are luminescent in the growing dusk, the cobblestones filled with couples dancing to music written before they were born. They’re celebrating the end of the day, the beginning of a new day; it being summer, them being alive.  


Will’s temple is wet, she sees. It could be from recognizing her, or the stress of an operation, or it might just be the humidity in the air. Eight o’clock at night and it’s still over twenty five degrees Celsius. The lower hemispheres are always a problem. It’s harder to tell who’s bluffing when their tells are partially masked. _Especially_ when that person happens to be wearing a leather jacket.  


His eyes widen the tiniest bit when he looks her way though. That’s one tell that doesn’t lie.  


Kate runs her hand through her curly black hair, drops some local currency on the bar, and pushes her stool back to leave. Her eyeliner is about to run from her own sweat anyway. She nods to the bartender as he counts the money. He finally responds. “Adios, muchacha.” Normally she'd be thrilled to have gotten local acceptance, a step to a cover. “Hasta luego,” she replies huskily, hoping that the change in timbre can throw Will off.  


But then he puts his own money on the bar, and adjusts his jacket.  


She walks away quickly, clipping the stones in her heels. They’re low enough that she can run if she has to, but high enough not to arouse attention. A woman with black hair, a flowing skirt, and red stilettos--who would look twice at that here?

 _Will would_.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The job requires a lot. At times, too much.

IV.  
The last time was, as previously mentioned, seven years ago.

 

She had... complained when they sent her the dossier. “This is insane,” she yelled, barging into the office. Security followed, guns at the ready until the director waved them off. It wasn’t the first time Kate had come in, upset.

“They haven’t even closed the Qumari case yet! It’s too risky. I’m not doing it.” The director looked up, and Kate swallowed. “Ma’am,” she added.

Closing the files in front of her, the director sighed. She put her hand against her lined forehead and rubbed. “It’s not that simple,” Director McNally said.

“Send Reese! He’s probably lazing around here somewhere,” Kate pleaded. “And although I will deny it under torture, he’s almost as good as I am.”

“We need a woman.” McNally shrugged. “We need you.”

Kate stopped pacing the room. “For what?”

 

She recognized the name right away, but told herself it had to be a coincidence. “There has to be more than one Bailey family there,” she said. “It’s NATO headquarters. There must be.”  
There wasn’t.

 

“Pleasure to meet you, Miss...” The Supreme Allied Commander for NATO Forces looked at his new assistant expectantly.

“Moss,” Kate supplied. “Donna Moss, Commander.”

“Miss Moss.” The Commander didn’t smile, though one of his aides did. “I’m sure we’ll have a very fruitful working relationship together.” Kate struggled to keep up as they passed through office after office, a group of officers trailing in their wake.

“My last secretary left to get married,” he added, glancing at her. “I hope we won’t have any problems of that nature.”

“No, sir, no significant others here,” Kate-now-Donna said. “And I have a policy against dating military men. Too much drama, and the pay’s not worth it.”

“Good on you,” Commander Bailey replied, finally stopping in front of a heavy teak desk, filled with papers and reports to be filled out. “This is your desk, Miss Moss.” He opened the door to the left. She peeked past him into a 12’ by 25’ foot room, larger than some of the other offices she had seen put together. The walls were covered with bookcases, filled with binders and leather-bound books. A table in one of the corners was surrounded by plastic chairs, facing a projector screen. Armchairs in front of the massive desk were just short enough to give whoever was sitting in them the feeling that the owner of the office was larger than life itself. “And this is my office,” Bailey continued. “You will be the gatekeeper. Is this understood?”

“Yes, Commander,” Kate responded automatically, snapping to attention.

“Hrmmph,” he said, eyeing her skeptically. “I believe that there are some reports to be completed. You should have all the necessary materials there. And my appointment calendar is in the first drawer on your left. We’ve got a quiet day today. I’ve got this briefing, a lunch, and a few calls. Think you can handle it?”

She nodded, and sat down to get to work.

“Hrmmph,” he said again, and ushered the duckling officers into his officer, closing the door sharply.

Kate-Donna sighed, and started going through the papers. “Thank god for the stupid paperwork I’m forced to do at work,” she thought, and then: “That’s something I never thought I’d say.” She lost herself in the monotony for a few hours, noting when the officers left, discussing strategy amongst themselves.

She knew when anyone entered the room (really any change to the environment), but pretended to be immersed in her work. It was part of being a secretary. So when a man stood right in front of her, she kept writing the last name of the Supreme Allied Commander Transformation. The French, with their long last names. Finally, the man cleared his throat. She looked up.

“Hi,” he said. “I’m here to see my father? I believe... He’s expecting me?”

The black hair was shorter, and his frame thinner, but Will Bailey looked just the same.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A handshake's an opportunity.

V.

 

Kate looked down quickly, shuffling papers on her desk. Her heartbeat quickened, but that was the kind of thing she had been trained to hide. She hit the pager button on the phone, and picked up the handle.

“Commander,” she said. “Your lunch is here.”

He grumbled. "I'll be out in a second." Kate hung up.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” Will said, smiling broadly. He offered his hand. “Will Bailey. I’m an, um, an analyst here.”

She responded smoothly, shaking his hand with a grip she’d perfected. That was one of the first things they’d taught in training. “You adjust,” the lieutenant had told them. “Sometimes you need to intimidate and sometimes you need to seduce and sometimes you need to be the weakest person in the room. Why is this person shaking hands with you? _What are they trying to find_?” The lieutenant (they’d never learned his name, or the names of anyone else in the group) had drilled them over and over again. He would roll them out of bed just to shake their hand, stop them in the middle of a fight and give them a persona. “ _You’re the president,_ ” he barked. “ _A hooker. A soccer mom_.”

 

“Donna Moss,” Kate replied. Another benefit of handshakes was that it gave one an opportunity to evaluate the other person. “Your father’s new secretary.”

Will was firm, but clammy. He was nervous and had learned to cover it up. An Army brat. And an intelligent one--he’d probably learned early: don’t show any fear. They’ll get you if you show fear.

 

Commander Bailey slammed his door behind him. “I’ll be back in thirty,” he said to Kate, without looking at Will. “Let’s go.” He strode out into the hallway, leaving Will pausing awkwardly behind him.

 

“It was nice to meet you,” he said to Kate. “I hope you enjoy it here.” Then he followed. Kate waited until they were out of sight, and then began to sweep her office and the Commander’s for bugs and security cameras. None. That would make her job much easier.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _In medias res._

VI.  
It took Kate two weeks to find what she needed.

 

It would have been a week, except for the interruptions. Somehow, word had spread that the new girl was a challenge. That she was ‘fierce’, as the admins reported. She laughed. They didn’t know the half of it. 

Every fucking intern in the place strutting around the office, claiming they had a memo to drop off. It didn’t matter anyway. It never mattered. She had her job, she did her job. Both of them.

The commander appreciated her anyway. She had to make sure he didn’t ‘appreciate’ her too much. She’d heard stories. “Poor Will,” she thought for a second. Just a second. She was a professional, after all.

 

Once she had found the plans and left them in the secure dropbox, she had to wait another week. Just to be sure, you understand. The exit strategy was all set up. The NATO doctor had lingered a tiny bit too long on the physical exam and she’d known immediately how she would go. But she couldn’t disappear too quickly. It would arouse suspicion.

 

So in the week between completing her mission and completing her job, she had time. She went to coffee with other ‘ _administrative assistants_ ’. The term meant nothing. A placeholder, a Band-Aid over the gaping wound. It was meant to replace ‘secretary’, but it was just a matter of time until it carried the same connotation. Margaret was particularly helpful.

“They’re all stuck in the last century,” she said, excited to have someone who wanted to learn the dynamics. “They’ve never grasped the concept of guerrilla warfare. They’re fighting a 20th century war in the 21st century.”

“So they’re playing a zone defense instead of man to man,” Kate supplied, tugging at her blazer.

“If that was the only problem,” Margaret replied, taking a sip of her latte. “They’ve forgotten that they are just as unwelcome as these forces. None of them have the heart of the people. How can they _ever_ win, or even make the enemy lose, without the country’s soul? It’s ludicrous.”

Kate nodded thoughtfully, moving her tea back and forth. She didn’t drink coffee. It clouded her mind, made her jumpy. She didn’t need it. Stimulants were for the weak, she thought, looking at the woman across from her.

Margaret paused, and put her cup back on her saucer. “No, you know what? I’m wrong. Bailey Jr. knows.” Kate jumped internally. Her only external movement. “But if no one’s listening, what can he do? He’s never going to change the bureaucracy from where he is. _Especially_ with his name.”

 

Kate saw Will only twice during her three weeks. Once was when he came for the lunch. The second and last time was when she was delivering a sensitive interdepartmental memo. Commander Bailey didn’t trust computers or the internet, even after the IT guy had explained it all to him. He just scoffed, and pulled out his fountain pen. Better for her anyway--that way she could see what he was writing.

But as she walked through the halls, she caught a glimpse of Will through the glass wall in his office, a prestigious location assignment. “He must be good,” she thought. “To get that treatment. Especially being the commander’s son, he must have worked twice as hard to get any respect in this place.”

Will was throwing a rubber ball against the wall again and again. He had taken off his jacket, his hair was rumpled, and he had loosened his tie beyond the limits of propriety. His mind was somewhere else, some problem, she assumed. She stood there for a second, watching him, before he felt her gaze and turned. He smiled, and something in the bottom of her stomach curdled. He raised his hand slowly and waved. Kate smiled back and nodded. She let herself have another second, eye to eye, before she remembered. “He thinks your name is Donna Moss,” the lieutenant in her head said. “ _Go_.” She walked away reluctantly. 

 

Two days later, the deputy commander unexpectedly ‘found’ her and the doctor _in medias res_. Kate-Donna was dismissed immediately. She never found out what happened to the doctor. It didn’t matter. He was a pawn. And he deserved whatever he received.

 

She only saw him twice, and he recognized her. “He was in training,” she realized, crouching behind a bench. She watched Will look back and forth between the paths she could have taken and finally give up, turning back. “Even then. A spy’s a spy, no matter where or when they are.”


End file.
